Chapter 112: Hiroshi Nohara Wants To Fall In Love! Meets His Fated One!
Tokyo Television Station, the Executive Deputy Director’s Office. The air at this moment seemed to have been sucked dry, solidifying into a heavy, icy cold amber, sealing everyone present in endless shock.
Toshihide Takada’s face, always carrying a hint of gloom, had long lost all its color, leaving only a deathly pale white.
He stared intently at the screen.
Watching those comical performances, full of childlike fun and imagination, fear flickered in his eyes.
“Impossible… This… this is absolutely impossible!”
Yasui Takashi, that always cynical ace director who treated variety shows as a plaything, stood frozen like a weathered statue.
His whiskey glass had tilted at some point, the amber liquid dripping through his fingers, staining his expensive Versace suit with a dark patch, yet he seemed oblivious.
His brain, a professional brain filled with the “iron rules” and “experience” of variety shows.
At this moment.
Had been completely, utterly, overwhelmed by a more primitive, purer, powerful force called “happiness”!
“The pacing… the pacing is too fast!”
Ito Chōan beside him had an equally disbelieving look of horror on his face.
He was like a classical samurai seeing modern warfare for the first time, facing the enemy’s dense phalanx of musketeers, feeling that his life’s swordsmanship had become a ridiculous, fragile joke!
“No buildup, no transitions, not even… not even time for the audience to breathe! One creative idea after another, like a never-ending blizzard, hitting the audience with all the punchlines, densely, fiercely! This… this doesn’t follow the logic of variety show production at all! This will… this will lead to audience fatigue!”
He said this, but his voice began to tremble uncontrollably.
Because he didn’t believe his own words!
Because this program…
Was too brilliant!
Masao Iwata had already collapsed on a low stool in the corner like a dog whose spine had been removed.
He looked at the distorted faces on the screen, contorted with pure happiness, and listened to the thunderous laughter from the sound system, which could blow off the roof. He felt like a sinner cast into the eighteenth level of hell, being forced to enjoy a feast in heaven.
That contrast, that disparity, was like the sharpest knife, mercilessly dissecting his heart, which had already been riddled with jealousy and unwillingness.
“Hahahahahahaha!”
And in another office, Asumi was laughing heartily, like a gambler who had won a bet of the century.
Asumi was enjoying the funny segments in Super Change Change Change.
Because it was funny!
It was happy!
It was worthy of Asumi’s hearty laughter!
Asumi comfortably rested his feet on the rosewood desk, holding a cup of steaming, fragrant coffee, and looking at the equally brilliant program on the screen. His usually elegant and calm face was filled with the joy of vindication.
“Monster… Hiroshi-kun, he’s not making a program.”
He murmured to himself, his tone full of emotion, “He’s… setting the rules. A brand new set of entertainment rules, belonging only to him, named ‘Hiroshi Nohara’!”
…
The storm of rules stirred up by Super Change Change Change spread far faster than anyone had imagined.
Osaka, Kansai Television Station.
“Is this… the strength of Tokyo TV?”
Ichiro Iwaya, the Production Bureau Deputy Director, and his most capable variety show directors, were also like petrified statues, staring intently at the giant monitor screen in the meeting room.
The air was filled with a scorching atmosphere mixed with tobacco and despair.
“The pacing… is too fast.”
A veteran director, known for “slow variety,” said with a dry voice. His face, always full of confidence, was now a mask of bewilderment. “It completely abandons the traditional beginning, development, and conclusion of variety shows, like an action movie with all the dramatic scenes cut out and only the climax remaining. Can the audience… can the audience really accept this information overload?”
“They don’t just accept it! They’re… reveling in it!” another director, skilled in outdoor reality shows, said with trembling disbelief. “This… this isn’t just about ratings anymore, this is a social phenomenon! I bet tomorrow, no, tonight! These imaginative ideas will become the focus of imitation and discussion among all the young people in Japan!”
“The most terrifying thing is its core.”
Ichiro Iwaya exhaled a long breath, a breath carrying the helplessness and admiration of recognizing reality. “It’s purely for the sake of happiness, for the sake of satisfaction, for the sake of creativity. It’s a product designed to make the audience happy! You can’t say it’s empty, but you can’t say it has a deep meaning either, yet it truly attracts viewers! It attracts ratings! This, perhaps, is its core!”
This statement plunged the entire meeting room into a long silence.
Currently, all programs in Japan emphasized educating the public, especially animated films, especially televisions, especially movies.
All of them.
Even if variety shows didn’t have such a high educational purpose, they still had to contain some educational sentiment.
But now, they realized Hiroshi Nohara’s approach was different.
It wasn’t what they had expected!
They finally understood that they were facing not just a simple competitor.
But a “Dimensional Reduction Striker” who had already stood on a higher dimension, looking down upon the entire chessboard in a way they could not comprehend.
…
Nagoya, Chukyo Television Station.
“Is this… the gap?”
Fukuoka, Kyushu Broadcasting.
“We… lost fairly.”
Sapporo, Hokkaido Culture Broadcasting…
“Can one person’s talent… truly defy an era?”
Countless questions, countless shocks, countless awe, unfolded simultaneously in various corners of Japan.
Those regional powers that had previously clamored to “encircle and annihilate” Hiroshi Nohara were now like their throats were being choked by an invisible hand, unable to utter a single word.
They were still caught up in their “Urban Legends” of trying to corner Hiroshi Nohara.
But he…
Had already leaped out of the Urban Legends and established a new kingdom!
They had fallen behind!
They finally understood that their so-called “Anti-Hiroshi Nohara Alliance” was merely a ridiculous joke, full of black humor, in the face of that young man’s talent, which was capable of subverting an era.
And those film critics who had doubted Hiroshi Nohara now resembled a flock of believers struck by divine revelation, laying down their pens, which were already filled with harshness and sarcasm.
They looked at the faces on the screen, contorted with pure happiness, and listened to the thunderous laughter from the sound system. Their sense of superiority as professionals had, at this moment, been utterly ground into dust.
They knew that from this night onwards, a new variety show myth, belonging solely to Hiroshi Nohara, had officially descended.
…
Kumamoto Prefecture, Oyama Family Home.
In the living room, everyone was already laughing like a boiling pot of hot porridge.
“Hahaha! This… this ‘Humanoid Typewriter’ is too funny! Oh dear! I can’t stop! My stomach! My stomach is going to burst from laughing!”
Mogae Oyama laughed so hard she was about to roll off the tatami, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes, which always held a lively and playful sparkle.
“Yes, yes, it’s really so interesting.” Even Masae, the eldest sister, usually gentle and quiet, couldn’t help but cover her mouth and let out a tinkling laugh. A charming blush had appeared on her usually reserved and pretty face due to pure happiness.
“What strange things are in Hiroshi’s brain,” said Mother Takao Oyama, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes as she laughed. Her gentle face was filled with pride and a sense of shared glory.
Only Yoshiharu Oyama, the head of the Oyama family, maintained the dignity of a dean of students, with a stern face, trying to critically examine this “indecent” program with the most professional eye.
“Hmph, it’s simply preposterous! What kind of conduct is this!” he said, but the uncontrollably, wildly upturned corners of his mouth had already completely betrayed his true feelings.
“Second sister! Second sister! Hurry and watch the TV! Brother-in-law’s program is too funny!” Mogae Nohara, having finally had her fill of laughter, picked up the brand-new Panasonic P100, wanting to share this joy with her sister in Tokyo.
“No hitting!” Yoshiharu Oyama suddenly became stern, holding her hand. His voice, with a hint of awkwardness that he himself hadn’t noticed, sounded like a doting father. “Your brother-in-law must be busy now! Don’t bother him! If you want to call… call your second sister!”
“Use the landline! That’s cheaper too!” Takao Oyama, more practically, pointed to the telephone in the corner.
She exchanged a glance with Yoshiharu Oyama and understood her old man’s thoughts.
“Alright then~” Mogae Nohara made a face and obediently ran over.
Soon, a voice filled with surprise and vitality, that of Misae, came from the other end of the phone.
The two sisters chattered, sharing their joy across hundreds of kilometers.
Yoshiharu Oyama listened to their conversation with his ears pricked up. A triumphant smile, impossible to suppress, finally appeared on his usually stern face.
He picked up the glass of iced beer in front of him and drank it all. The exhilarating feeling of victory swept away all his worries.
…
Akita Prefecture, Omagari City, Nohara Family Home.
“Ohohohoho—!”
Ginnosuke Nohara’s devilish laughter almost shook the roof of the old house.
He had lost all semblance of his authority as the head of the household, rolling on the tatami like a child who had regained his youth. His thick eyebrows, identical to his youngest son’s, twitched up and down with extreme excitement, full of comical humor.
“Tsuru! Tsuru, look quickly! This ‘ramen chef tossing noodles’! Hahaha! It’s so alike! Just as dashing as I was in my youth!”
“You shameless thing! Sit up properly! What are you doing!” Tsuru Nohara frowned, trying to suppress her husband’s unleashed self with the authority of a wife.
But the uncontrollably, wildly upturned corners of her mouth had already completely betrayed her true feelings.
This program was truly hilarious!
Truly ridiculous!
Only Hiroshi Nohara, this simple farmer, remained relatively calm.
He simply sat quietly in the corner, watching the comical performances on the TV, full of childlike fun and imagination. A sincere, honest smile appeared on his dark face.
However, as he smiled, his gaze involuntarily drifted towards the sky outside the window.
In his mind, uncontrollably, another, equally pure and beautiful, cute smiling face emerged.
It was a girl he had met a few days ago at a coffee shop when he went to the city’s Agricultural Cooperative to handle land acquisition procedures.
The girl was a new intern at the coffee shop, named Ikuna Sakuruda. She was from a nearby village, had a gentle personality, spoke softly, and her eyes would curve into beautiful crescent moons when she smiled.
He remembered that day, he had been a bit annoyed by the complicated paperwork, and it was that girl who patiently explained each clause to him, over and over again, at the coffee shop.
It was that girl who, when he was scratching his head, unable to understand the dense legal terms, proactively offered him a cup of steaming hot coffee.
It was that girl who, when he finished all the procedures and was about to leave, gave him an encouraging smile in the coffee shop, a smile brighter than the sunlight outside.
“Mr. Nohara, you are truly a remarkable person,” she had said then, her clear eyes sparkling with sincerity. “Nowadays, young people like you, who are willing to stay in their hometown and manage the land with care, are rare.”
At that moment, Hiroshi Nohara felt his heart, which had become somewhat rough from years of labor, skip a beat uncontrollably.
He, a nearly thirty-year-old bachelor who had never even held a girl’s hand, had actually… shamefully, fallen in love.
It’s just…
Hiroshi Nohara let out a long sigh, a sigh carrying a hint of bitterness that he himself hadn’t noticed, a bitterness of a man.
That day, he had personally seen a young man, who looked slick and drove a brand-new sedan, showering the girl with attention, holding a bouquet of delicate roses.
And although the girl had been politely refusing, her face, always adorned with a gentle smile, couldn’t entirely hide a touch of youthful vanity.
What could he, a mere farmer who only knew how to grow crops, compete with a young man driving a sedan and working in the city?
A bitter tide of inferiority surged in Hiroshi Nohara’s heart.
He subconsciously took out the futuristic Panasonic P100 that his younger brother had given him.
He looked at the number, “Hiroshi,” pinned to the top of his contacts list. A struggle, and a sliver of, last, tiny hope flashed in his simple eyes.
He wanted to ask his younger brother, who could navigate the dazzling world of Tokyo with ease, and had even found a girlfriend as beautiful as a fairy.
He wanted to ask him, what… what should he do.
Perhaps…
His omnipotent younger brother could truly give him an answer that would change his destiny.
He took a deep breath and finally pressed the green, hope-filled, dial button.
